Palace of Isolation
by NeuralBallast
Summary: The formerly great Kingdom of Arendelle has fallen into financial ruin after more than a decade of increasingly long and harsh winters. Anna, the Crown Princess, is called upon to rescue Arendelle from disaster with a timely marriage - to a handsome stranger she cannot trust. But when the sacrifice demanded of her becomes too great, she runs for the mountains. Rescued from death in
1. Prologue

Legends of ice monsters haunt every country with harsh winters. When the world has been a blinding, freezing whiteness for months on end, until no one can even remember that other colors once existed; when the livestock freeze to death and the fuel runs low and the children cry and the old folks shake their heads and tell you that this is nothing, it was far worse when they were young; these are the times when people feel the need to blame something, _someone_, for this miserable tormenting cold that rules their every moment.

So they dream up the snow monsters. Huge shaggy beasts ten feet tall that live on human flesh. Demons who freeze the living at a single touch. Witches with hearts of ice who cast spells of eternal winter on the land.

Chilling stories, perhaps - but such stories can make a tiny fire seem much warmer by comparison.

And so the stories are told. And so they grow, year after year, until no one remembers who first invented them, who embellished them, who told them in words that made the stories seem so real that even the tellers began to believe them.

And so the stories come to life.


	2. Chapter 1

Anna had known since her earliest childhood that she was a terribly unsatisfactory princess.

Don't talk so loud, they'd told her. Don't run in the halls. Don't stuff yourself at meals. Don't argue with the diplomats, sneak cookies from the kitchens, swear at the courtiers (not even in foreign languages), peek at the dirty books in the library, take weapons lessons from the guards, or wink at the kitchen boys. And _please_, your Highness, for the love of all that is holy, _don't _ask so many questions.

Everything fun was a 'don't' - and all the boring things were 'do's.

Do be polite to everyone you speak to - even if they're stupid, rude, or boring. Do attend all lessons, even if it's a sunny day outside and the spring snow is melting and the crocuses have just come up in the meadow. Do wear a corset, even though it pinches and you can't breathe. Do learn etiquette, heraldry, military history, geography, economics, and a minimum of four foreign languages. Remember, dear Princess, you will be the Queen one day.

'One day.' God, how that phrase haunted her.

From a very young age - she couldn't remember how young, it seemed like forever - Anna had dreaded this far-off 'One Day' when she would suddenly become responsible for living her life by all of the Do's and Don'ts at once. The day when the fate of the kingdom would apparently rest on whether or not she could remember that the primary exports of Polonia were wheat, chalk, and elaborately painted teapots, while also speaking perfect Malanese, _and _suppressing any poorly-timed burps.

As a small child, she had comforted herself by remembering that none of this would happen until both Father and Mother were very old. And surely by then she would have learned everything she needed to know. By that long far off day when she became Queen (ugh), she would surely have lost the itching desire to abandon everything around her and go adventuring some place where no one knew that Anna was the Crown Princess of Arendelle.

Some place where she could be herself. Whoever that was.

Well, that terrible 'one day' was now approaching, apparently - and coming up far sooner than anyone would have wished. Especially Anna herself.

Everyone knew, of course, that the voyage to Caprus could be dangerous. Sudden violent storms were known to come up out of nowhere and suck ships down without a trace in the usually placid seas off the country's coast. But the merchant vessels of Arendelle made the trip all the time, and most of them came back in one piece. So no one was unduly worried when King Edvard set off for the trade symposium - after all, he went to Caprus every five years for this meeting, and had always returned safe and sound.

But two weeks after he had set out, the word came back from Caprus that King Edvard had never arrived. Two weeks after that, some fishermen had found smashed pieces of storage barrels marked with the Arendelle seal floating in the currents that formed the usual route between Caprus and Arendelle. And two weeks after that, the wreckage had finally been discovered, crushed against a reef that had somehow gone unmarked on the ship captain's charts.

And so Arendelle officially entered a state of mourning for her drowned king.

Queen Helene's grief had sent her into a state of shock which lasted long after the funeral. She hardly spoke, ate, or slept. Even Anna, who could almost always coax a smile out of her mother, was at a loss to do anything but sit beside her mother's bed and hold her hand as Queen Helene stared blankly at the ceiling, her face expressionless as tears trickled slowly down the sides of her lovely face.

Anna mourned for her father too. Of course she did. True, King Edvard had never been especially affectionate towards his playful, irreverent, ever-clumsy daughter. True also that they had clashed frequently, especially over Anna's apparent inability to "take her responsibilities seriously, as befitted a princess." At the state funeral, Anna remembered with a horrible stab of guilt that their last fight had been on the morning of her father's departure, and that she had not gone down to the docks to see him off. She'd stayed in her room, sulking and resentful. Now his last words rang in her ears:

"Can't you at least _pretend_ to care about the future of Arendelle, Anna?"

But she did care. She cared desperately. Anna might not be everyone's idea of a perfect princess, but she loved Arendelle with all her heart - and she knew, deep in her bones, that as the realm's queen she would be a horrible, terrible failure.

Of course, Anna wasn't yet Arendelle's queen. Her mother Helene was still (perhaps reluctantly) alive, and Arendelle's relatively progressive constitution gave the widowed queen quite a lot of authority over the kingdom. Helene had ruled wisely beside her husband for many years, and was completely capable of assuming responsibility. But she seemed not to care anymore what became of her realm. She wouldn't attend meetings, review documents, or even speak to any of her ministers. After the funeral was over she had begun to speak again, sometimes, when asked a direct question. She would eat occasionally, and bathe and change her clothing when someone reminded her. But she was utterly indifferent to the ever-mounting issues of governance that demanded her attention; and with her silence, authority fell to Anna.

Anna didn't want it. She had never wanted it. She was born to be queen, but she would sooner muck out the stables than negotiate a treaty.

It was only a few days after the funeral - her father's empty casket lowered into the frozen ground, the sound of her mother's heaving sobs echoing in Anna's ears - that the courtiers and government officials had begun to haunt Anna's footsteps. At first the requests were relatively simple - official signatures on notes, a nod of approval for some meaningless details of castle management, that sort of thing. Then she'd had to meet with some diplomats, and have her hand kissed, and try not to sound terribly stupid when they wanted to discuss some intricacies of foreign affairs that she hadn't gotten to in her political history lessons yet. Then some trade agreements had come due for renewal, and Anna had had to pretend she understood the Trade Minister's explanations, which lasted all through a long, exhausting, utterly pointless afternoon. With every passing day that the Queen stayed in bed, Anna could feel the eyes of the court and the country turning towards her, silently begging her to grow up, do her duty, assume the reigns of power - and it terrified Anna beyond words.

So she'd started hiding. Whenever she saw another secretary heading down the corridor toward her, she'd duck into a side chamber, scuttle down a hallway, dart into an unused bedroom, or shut herself into a broom closet. Anything to get away. It wasn't dignified, and it wasn't a solution, but she couldn't seem to help herself.

She was tiptoeing down one of the corridors behind the library - avoiding her etiquette tutor, this time, as most of the important ministers seemed to have disappeared somewhere and were thankfully leaving her alone - when she thought she heard her mother's voice from inside the room.

Anna stopped in mid-tiptoe, astonished. Her mother, speaking? Her mother, in the library? Queen Helene had scarcely left her chambers for weeks.

It would be terribly un-princessly to eavesdrop. Anna could practically hear her etiquette tutor telling her so. 

She silently told her etiquette tutor to go stuff himself, and snuck closer to press her ear against the door.

Yes, it was her mother. Speaking in the firm, official voice that Anna had not heard since before her father's death.

"... simply don't understand your urgency, gentlemen. Surely this is not the right time to be thinking of such things."

"I must respectfully disagree with you, Your Majesty." That was the somewhat whining voice of the Chief Social Secretary, which Anna could have recognized anywhere. "The kingdom is in most desperate need of a reason to look towards the future - something to plan for, something to celebrate. This is the perfect time to be considering the Princess' marriage."

Anna almost choked. _What? Marriage? But - but - !_

"She's too young. Scarcely eighteen."

_Thank you, mother_, Anna thought.

"You were not much older when you were married, your Majesty." This was the voice of the Royal Historian. God, how many of them were in there, discussing Anna's future without her? "And consider, marriage might do a great to steady the Princess. She has been so much alone throughout her life, no friends of her own rank and age, and she is so full of energy and affection. Perhaps, with a handsome young husband, she will have - ahem - an outlet for those - ahem - energies." Having talked himself dangerously close to the precipice of an impropriety, the Historian coughed again and was silent.

Anna's cheeks burned. "Energies" indeed! The dirty-minded old fool.

"Well. I suppose there's no harm in sending for Prince Hans. We'll see if they get on well together, and then, perhaps -"

"Your Majesty, I would urge you to press the point a little more strongly than that with Princess Anna." The soft, measured voice of Prime Minister Oryn cut off the Queen. Oryn had been Prime Minister since before Helene's birth, and was perhaps the only person who could interrupt an Arendelle royal with impunity. Helene fell silent to listen as Oryn spoke.

"Arendelle owes a great deal to the Southern Isles. The last several winters have been unusually long and hard, and we have had to import a large portion of our grain on credit. If we were to back away from the betrothal, the consequences to our financial standing with the Southern Isles -"

"Yes, Prime Minister, I understand." There was a hint of sharpness to Helene's soft voice that was just short of a rebuke. "I am perfectly well aware of our debt of honor to our distant allies. But I am not prepared to mortgage my daughter and the throne of Arendelle in exchange for a few winters' worth of grain, however desperately we needed them at the time, and however grateful we may be to - "

"Your Majesty, I'm afraid you already _have_ mortgaged it. Mortgaged her, if you wish to put it in those terms. Quite irrevocably."

There was a heavy silence. Anna listened to all of them breathing. Her own heart was hammering in her chest so loudly she was afraid they might all hear it through the door.

"... What do you mean?" asked Helene at last.

"The documents of betrothal were signed and sealed late last winter. I have them here - wait a moment -" there was a rustling of parchment "- along with a comprehensive statement of our debts to the Southern Isles." A silence as Queen Helene examined the documents. "The statement of accounts, as you can see, does not include this winter's borrowings, which have been substantial -"

"_How_ _did this happen_?" Helene's voice cut through the Minister's dry speech, and it was louder, sharper and clearer than Anna had heard it in months. "How did we let things get to this point? How did Edvard keep this from me? These numbers - Minister, these numbers are horrendous. This is more than Arendelle brings in during the best of years. The best of _five_ years. And the interest rate - my god, it's insane. How could Edvard have agreed to such terms?"

"I don't know, your Majesty. Had I known, I would certainly have advised him against it. I can only assume that he believed Arendelle would be able to make good on the debts long before now. But as you know, the winters for many years - the past _twelve_ years -" the Minister's emphasis on the number was oddly insistent - "have been terrible, and getting worse. No one could have predicted such run of hardship."

"I - I just - I can't believe he never told me," said Helene, and from the muffled quality of her voice Anna was sure her mother had buried her face in her hands.

When the Minister spoke, his voice was gentler. "Your Majesty, the terms of the betrothal are extremely generous. The Southern Isles have agreed to forgive all debt, and to ensure that Arendelle is completely provisioned for as long as these over-lengthy winters persist. They are an increasingly powerful nation, with a substantial navy and many trade relationships on the Continent. Securing our alliance with them can only be good for Arendelle."

"You talk of "securing our alliance" as though it had nothing to do with Anna. With her future happiness."

"Your concern for the Princess is most touching, your Majesty, but -"

"She is my _daughter_, you know, Minister."

The Minister coughed. "Of course. Of course. But your Majesty, we have no reason to believe that she will _not_ be happy. By all reports, Prince Hans is an exceptionally intelligent, well-mannered, and decently brought-up young man. He is even reported to be handsome, for goodness' sake. What more could a young girl want?"

"Love, perhaps?" the Queen suggested, with a mixture of sarcasm and pathos.

"Love. Yes, well." The Minister again coughed that detestable dry cough of his. "Not all Princesses are lucky enough to marry for love."

"I was," said Helene. Her voice shook only a little.

"Well, perhaps love will grow. As I said, Prince Hans is said to have every quality a young lady could wish for in a husband."

Another considering silence. "How long have you all known of this?" Queen Helene asked at last.

"Several months," admitted the Social Secretary nervously. 

"And not one of you thought to mention it to me before now?"

"We… we did not want to burden you, your majesty. You seemed, erm… preoccupied."

It was the closest these men would ever come to rebuking Helene for her abandonment of Arendelle during the past few months of deep mourning. The all knew it. There was another silence, which Oryn broke.

"Your Majesty, it is time to secure the future of Arendelle. Princess Anna is a lovely girl - warm, generous, and charming -"

What? Oryn thought she was charming? How sweet of him. Maybe Anna had misjudged him in the past -

" - but she lacks many of the essential skills to be a good ruler of Arendelle. She is impulsive, over-opinionated, under-confident, and painfully deficient in social graces. Not mention frequently unwilling to be guided and educated by her elders."

No, never mind. Anna hadn't misjudged him. The man was a pretentious, mean-spirited, cold-hearted old fart.

"In short, she needs a husband. Someone wise, stable, mature, with political experience and excellent diplomatic skills. Prince Hans is perhaps a little younger than one might wish, but I have met him and talked with him, and believe him to be far more astute than his youth would suggest. Not only is this marriage necessary to the country financially, it may even prove to be the very thing necessary to secure the political effectiveness of the monarchy, and perhaps even the happiness of the Princess herself."

Another silence. Longer than any of the ones that had come before. Anna wanted to burst in and yell at them all that this simply wouldn't do, she was not some piece of property that could be mortgaged in payment for Arendelle's loans, and she didn't care how handsome this stupid Prince Hans was, he sounded like a colossal bore and she wasn't going to marry him even if her mother -

"Agreed." The Queen sighed. "Very well. Send for him. We will end the period of mourning in another month, and Anna's marriage will be announced at the Christmas Ball."

The Chief Social Secretary gave an audible exclamation of joy, and sounded about to launch into an immediate party planning session, but Helene cut him off.

"Gentlemen, I am tired. Excuse me, please." And before Anna had time to think or move, her mother had risen and come to the door and opened it, revealing Anna standing there with a crimson face.

"Anna - dear - what -" Helene began, but Anna was off and running down the corridor before her mother could even begin.

Away. She had to get away.


	3. Chapter 2

But there was nowhere to run to, really, and Anna soon came to her senses. If she were doomed to be a failure as queen, then the least she could do was save Arendelle from its debts and give the country a king who would know how to do a better job than she would.

And after all, she had to marry someone. She'd just thought … well, she thought she'd have more time. And more choice.

But at least they'd said he was handsome?

Although the betrothal wasn't officially announced, the gossip spread like wildfire through the population of Arendelle, bored and desperate for something to be happy about after several months of winter and mourning for the king. The change in the mood could be felt almost at once, as preparations for the Winter Ball turned the castle and the surrounding countryside upside down. The ball was a large event during any normal year, and now that it was rumored to be the Crown Princess' engagement party as well, it was shaping up to be the social event of the decade. So although the portraits remained covered and the courtiers continued to wear black and speak to Anna and her mother in soft, considerate voices, behind closed doors a happy buzz of anticipation had already sprung up.

Anna had to admit, she was grateful for the change, even if the reason behind it still terrified her. She had always loved a party - why should this one be any different, just because it signalled the end of whatever independence she might ever have had?

Ugh. On second thought, maybe she shouldn't answer that.

The early snow that autumn had damaged many of the crops, and Arendelle was poorly equipped to throw the kind of party that the occasion demanded. But soon after the message had been sent inviting Prince Hans to Arendelle (suspiciously quickly, in fact, given that it should have taken a week for the message even to be delivered), a trade ship from the Southern Isles, packed from stem to stern with all manner of goods. Much of it was practical - staple grains, sacks of coal, sturdy tools, and other items that were immediately distributed to the Arendelle peasantry, to much rejoicing. But there were also luxury items for the palace, no doubt sent by the Southern Isles to make sure that Arendelle did not embarrass her future king by its relative poverty. Casks of the finest wines and liquors, bags of sugar and coffee, fragrant spices and exotic fruits, yards of fine linen, beautiful wax tapers, - everything Arendelle needed to give itself and its Princess away in style.

And, finally, there was a special trunk marked with Anna's name on it.

When this last item was delivered up from the docks to the palace, several of the housemaids clustered around to watch her open it.

"Oooh, what do you suppose he sent?"

"Precious pearls! The Southern Isles are rich!"

"I'll bet it's an entire trunk full of love letters," giggled one girl.

"Now now, let's not be foolish," said Gerda, the housekeeper. "Open it, your Highness, so these silly hens can satisfy their curiosity and get back to work."

Anna stared at the trunk, somehow reluctant to lift the lid. She was grateful, of course, for the gifts that would get Arendelle through the winter. And the luxury items for the palace were lovely too - Anna had relished having sugar in her tea that morning, for the first time in ages. But whatever was in the trunk would be engagement gifts for _her_, rather than for her country.

It made it more real, somehow, that she was more or less selling herself in exchange for these goods.

Which was a ridiculous compunction to have. It wasn't as though she could make herself only be half-betrothed, by accepting the gifts for Arendelle and rejecting the ones for herself. Mentally giving herself a shake, Anna pushed back the lid of the trunk and began lifting out the items within and holding them up for the others to see.

Each new gift drew a gasp of delight from the girls clustered around. Prince Hans had been absurdly generous. There was a long string of the beautiful pearls for which the Southern Isles were famous; little crystal flasks of perfume, smelling of faraway lands where flowers grew all year; a beautifully bound and illuminated book of poems; the fur of some exotic animal, thick and striped and so enormous that Anna could hardly imagine the size of the beast it must have come from; a bolt of green silk which gleamed softly in the light and felt like spring sunshine against Anna's fingers, it was so soft and warm.

And at the very bottom, a note, addressed to Anna.

No amount of begging from the housemaids could get Anna to read it out loud while they were there. At last Gerda shooed them all out of the room, taking the silk with her, to be immediately made up into a dress for Anna for the Christmas ball. Anna caught the hint of a knowing smile on housekeeper's face as she pulled the door shut behind her, saying to Anna "Enjoy your letter, your Highness."

Anna tucked herself up in a window seat and examined the letter. It was formally addressed to Her Highness the Princess Anna Agneta Ottilia Maria Fredericka of Arendelle (he'd missed Brunnhilde, but Anna didn't mind, it was her least favorite of her ridiculous string of names).

With a clench of nervous anticipation in her stomach, Anna broke the seal.

_Your Highness,_

_Forgive me for addressing you directly, when we have yet to meet face-to-face. But I felt that without a personal note, these humble gifts would be appear to be only so much dross and bribery. I wish that they were finer - only the best for the Princess of a country I hold in such high esteem - but I beg that you will accept them anyway, as a token of my regard and a symbol of my great joy at our approaching meeting. I have heard such tales of your loveliness, your kindness, and your devotion to your country, that I feel we must already know one another. I am eager to make it so. Please think well of me, despite the awkward timing and abrupt nature of these proceedings, and know that I will do anything in my power to bring honor and bounty both to Arendelle and to you._

Your humble servant,  
Prince Hans of the Southern Isles

Well. Not exactly a love letter? And Anna couldn't help thinking he was laying it on a little thick.

But the mention of the 'awkward timing and abrupt nature of the proceedings' was somehow… reassuring? She hadn't expected him to think about how she might feel, being married to a stranger so soon after her father's death, with no choice in the matter.

Maybe he was sensitive. Maybe he was kind. Maybe he would truly care for her, and she would grow to love him, and they would be gloriously happy together.

Then again, maybe he was a stilted, stuck-up, over-formal, spoiled Southerner and she would have to restrain herself from putting frogs in his bed and pepper in his tea.

Only time would tell. 


End file.
